Your battles rage, and I see what scars scratch your skin; I see the weight you bear, your heart is a battlefield with unending spar.

In essence,
Distance gives you the view of their landscape;

Illuminating,
We glimpse our true selves through the reflections of others, like mirrors to the soul.

Like their garden, occupied by substance—what withers; mirrors they appear themselves a guard and here I stand, in all my form, a 'lookout' may seemingly.

World is as vast,
My worries small.
Who am i?
Im just passing through; a tourist from a distance.